


Call and Answer

by Rosalita



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Character Death Fix, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosalita/pseuds/Rosalita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor always comes when Michael calls. The events in <em>Lesser Evil</em> happened a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call and Answer

The front door rattled with the unmistakable sound of someone jimmying the lock. Michael sat still, not bothering to turn on a light or dive for the gun that was never far from him. He knew who it was. He'd offered Victor a key several times, but Victor always refused. Apparently, it was more fun for him to try to defeat the increasingly sophisticated locks Michael installed. He'd ask for a key when he came across a lock he couldn't pick. So far that hadn't happened. And it didn't happen tonight, either.

Victor walked into the loft, turning on the light switch next to the door. He didn't look particularly surprised that Michael had been sitting in the dark. He did, however, look as if he were about to say something flip, but whatever it was died on his lips. Michael wondered if he really looked so bad that even Victor couldn't muster up a sarcastic comment.

The best defense being a good offense, Michael asked, "So what took you so long?"

Victor gave him a long assessing look, but didn't rise to the bait that Michael was chumming the waters with. "I got here as soon as I could. It's a long way from Jakarta."

Michael's intention to ask why he'd been in Jakarta must have been obvious to Victor because with a wave of his hand, he said, "Better that you don't know."

"Ah." Michael wondered briefly who Victor had gone to Jakarta to kill, then decided that he really didn't want to know. He didn't want to know the details of what Victor got up to in the exotic places that his freelancing took him. Jakarta was just the latest. Last spring, he'd been in Mozambique. In December, it was Thailand. A couple of months ago - and this one had caught Michael completely by surprise - Iowa. He claimed to have been visiting old friends, but Michael wasn't so sure.

Victor had taken to freelancing his way around the world after recovering from the gunshot wound he'd received on the boat. Fi and Sam had taken care of Carla and Management, which meant that Victor and Michael were free. Well, Victor was free, anyway. He'd turned down Michael's offer to stick around Miami and took whatever job was offered to him wherever it was offered. But he always made himself available when Michael needed him. Like now.

Victor had wandered over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, waving it at Michael with an eyebrow raised in question.  Michael shook his head. The other man shrugged and removed the cap by banging it on the countertop. He took a long swallow and didn't bother trying to hide that he was assessing Michael.

Michael knew what he was seeing because he saw it in the mirror every day - a bone deep weariness that was illustrated by the dark shadows under his eyes and the paleness of his skin.

By contrast, Victor was tan, clean shaven for a change, bright eyed, and a good deal less manic than he'd been at any time since Michael had known him. Being out from under the Organization's thumb was obviously agreeing with him.

Victor took another long pull off his beer, and Michael watched appreciatively as his throat worked to swallow it. He shifted a little in his chair to relieve the sudden tightness in his pants.

Victor noticed and treated him to that lopsided little smile of his. "So what's the job?"

He really wished that Victor would just get with the program. This pretending that he didn't know what Michael wanted was annoying. Coy was not a good look on him.

"There is no job. Come over here."

"No job," Victor echoed as he put the empty bottle on the counter and walked over to where Michael sat. "I just spent 24 hours in planes and airports and there's no job?"

There was no heat behind his words, just genuine curiosity. Michael never called him unless there was a job he needed Victor's help on. Sometimes Sam or Fi were unavailable. Sometimes there was a need for a fourth player. And sometimes Michael just needed whatever element he thought Victor could bring to the equation, but there was always a reason. Always a job. The great sex they had after the job was done was a bonus.

Victor moved closer and squatted down in front of the chair, eyes full of concern. "Michael," he said quietly, "Why am I here?"

"You always come when I call," Michael said.

And it was true. Of course, so did Fi, after she spent a few minutes rearranging her other meetings. And so did Sam, after complaining about the date he had to cancel. Victor never asked questions. He dropped whatever he was doing and came.

He supposed it was Victor's way of thanking Michael for saving his life and dragging him back from the worst of his insanity. Not to say that Victor wasn't still crazy; it was just a more manageable kind of crazy.

Victor hand was warm where it rested on Michael's knee. "Tell me why I came this time."

The temptation to spill it was great. To tell Victor that he was sick and tired of it all. Carla might be gone; Management might be gone, but it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. There was a never ending supply of enemies and people who wanted to use him and his skills just waiting to come after him. Just as soon as he bested one, another showed up to take his place. The only thing that kept him going was the desire to know who had burned him and why. He still wanted his life back, but was starting to think he wasn't ever going to get it.

Victor would understand that for all he'd said that the who and the why didn't matter. He'd still understand that it was important to Michael. And that's why Victor was here now, kneeling before Michael looking up at him with eyes gone soft, hand still on Michael's knee.

Michael cupped Victor's cheek, felt the strangeness of his smooth skin and sort of missing the previously ever present stubble. He wanted Victor to close his eyes, to rub his cheek against the palm of Michael's hand. But Victor stubbornly refused. He was still, staring at Michael, clearly awaiting an answer.

The closest Michael could come to telling Victor the truth - that he wasn't sure he could do this anymore - was a soft "I'm tired, Vic."

And even that was too much. Victor gave him a knowing look as if the entire story had come out in those three words. Maybe it had. Victor had proved to be good at hearing the things Michael didn't say. A useful trait when they were working, but annoying in this context. Michael was often disturbed by how well Victor knew him, even though they'd known each other for such a short time. It was probably because they were so damned much alike.

"I need . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence, but then, he didn't have to.

"Relax, big guy," Victor was saying. I'm going to give you what you need."

One of the things he really liked about sex with Victor was the way the man just got down to it. He simply unzipped Michael's pants, pulled out his cock. He dragged his tongue across the head slowly before wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard. There was nothing pretty or tender about it, but then, Michael didn't want tender. He wanted it like this. Wanted that hot, wet suction around his cock and it was all he could do to keep from grabbing Victor's head and thrusting into his mouth as hard as he could. He was sure Victor wouldn't stop him if he did. The man had never denied him anything. Still, his fingers dug into the sides of the chair hard enough to make the vinyl creak.

Victor pulled off his cock and lightly kissed his balls before looking up at him through eyelashes that Fi had said more than once that she'd kill to have.

"Whatever you need," he said.

That was all the permission Michael needed. He gripped the back of Victor's neck with one hand and pushed his head back down into his lap, pushing up into his mouth. Three quick thrusts and it was over. Michael was coming with a shout and Victor was taking it all.

Coming down, Michael found Victor's head still in his lap, pressing kisses to his softening cock. He had his own cock out and was stroking it fast, his entire body trembling. Michael ran his fingers through Victor's hair and held him until he came.

Later, they'd lie together in Michael's bed and there would be a sort of tenderness to the sex, or as tender as they could ever get. Maybe they'd talk about the things Michael didn't want to talk about.

Maybe there would even be a job.


End file.
